


Another One Bites the Dust

by Jenetica



Series: The Heisenberg Anthology [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, mentions of previous sex acts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia has the house to herself for the weekend, and Stiles has a bucket list of sex acts to get through.</p><p>It isn't rocket science. (Although, if you'd like, Lydia can walk you through that, instead.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just discovered the "Porn with Feelings" tag... so that's a thing I'll be using all the time, now.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to [atomiceyes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atomiceyes/pseuds/atomiceyes) because today's her birthday! Yay! :D
> 
> Fifth in the Heisenberg Anthology and, I hate to say it, but this entire story will make way more sense if you at least read [Peaches & Cream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/953452), because the entire concept of Stiles' bucket list of sexual deviancy is explained pretty thoroughly. And also porn.
> 
> Un-beta'd, because fuck perfect grammar. (It's been a long week.)

“No parties, okay?” Lydia's mom said, stopping in the foyer to give Lydia a knowing look. “Or, at least, nothing out of control. Or just be sure to clean up afterwards.”  
  
Now there was some high-quality parenting. “Okay, Mom,” Lydia replied, internally rolling her eyes. “No parties, got it.”  
  
“Okay. We'll be back Monday night. Don't forget to feed Prada, darling.” Lydia's mom stooped to give her a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon.”  
  
“Bye,” Lydia said, hating genetics for making her the only short person in the family. “Have fun in Sacramento.”  
  
As soon as the door was closed, Lydia had her phone out. _I have the house to myself all weekend._  
  
Her phone buzzed less than thirty seconds later. _Please tell me that means what I think it means, because my brain tends to draw far-fetched conclusions._  
  
Lydia rolled her eyes. _Get over here, dumbass._  
  
 _Give me half an hour._  
  
Lydia grinned and went to her bedroom to get changed. This weekend was going to be fantastic.  
  
Stiles arrived twenty-eight minutes later with his duffel bag clutched in one hand, looking pale.  
  
"Stiles?" Lydia asked, pulling him into the house. "What's the matter with you? You're not sick, are you? Because that would fuck everything up."  
  
"I have a whole weekend of sex in front of me," Stiles said, hushed. "Two full days of the getting of the down and dirty. Over forty-eight hours of the pootang pasodoble. The monkey love mamba."  
  
"Stiles, seriously?" Lydia tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help herself. Pootang pasodoble? _What?_  
  
"Lydia, we're going to get some stank on the hang down. For two _days_."  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ, are you kidding?" Lydia burst, cackling. "What does that even mean?"  
  
"It means," Stiles said, moving to crowd Lydia against the wall of the foyer, "that I'm going to rock your world so many times, you'll lose count. It means we're going to do things you've never even imagined doing. Over, and over, and over again."  
  
Lydia shivered, feeling hot. "Oh. Well, in that case, feel free to put 'stank' wherever tickles your fancy." Stiles grimaced.  
  
"Yeah, that expression is disgusting. Can we ignore that one? I preferred 'monkey love mamba.'"  
  
"I dunno," Lydia said, "I think 'go to my bedroom and get naked right now' has a nice ring to it, myself."  
  
Stiles shut his eyes hard. "Yep, okay," he said, his voice coming out high-pitched. "That's definitely a good one."  
  
"So is 'kiss me,'" she replied. She pushed her hands into Stiles' hair and pulled his head down, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Stiles groaned and starfished his hands across her back, tugging her into the curl of his body. Lydia arched up, rubbing herself into the front of his pants, where he was growing hard.  
  
Stiles broke away with a gasp. "So, this bedroom thing…."  
  
Lydia grinned and tugged him upstairs, peeling off her tank top at the top of the stairs and tossing it over her shoulder. Stiles caught it, as she knew he would, and his overshirt hit her back a moment later. She managed to catch the thing before it fell to the ground, and threw a disbelieving glance over her shoulder.  
  
"What?" Stiles asked, guileless. "I was reciprocating! Can't guys be seductive, too?"  
  
"Be still my quivering limbs," Lydia retorted dryly, entering her bedroom. “I've been seduced.”  
  
“Good,” Stiles said, snaking his arms around to her front. Lydia fell back against his body, arms coming up to rest atop his. “Hard part's over.”  
  
“I certainly hope not,” Lydia replied, grinding her ass back into his hips. Stiles inhaled sharply and drew his hands up to cup her breasts through her bra, flicking his thumbs across her nipples. Lydia arched into the touch, scratching lines into his forearms with her nails. “Or did you forget about the list?”  
  
“Jesus,” Stiles said, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Is it wrong that I now have a Pavlovian reaction to the word ’list’? Because I do.”  
  
“Hmm,” Lydia thought aloud, turning in his hold. “What was on it, again? Blowjob, done; cunnilingus, done; wall sex; eating me out after fucking me, done--”  
  
“I thought we agreed that one was an experiment to be repeated?” Stiles reminded her, stooping to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.  
  
“We did say that, yes,” Lydia stammered. The spot on her chest felt cold from evaporation but oh-so-hot at the same time, and it was amazing. “Hey, whaddya say we just start with plain old sex?” She wasn't sure she had the patience to pick through the list, not right now.  
  
“We do have plenty of time.” Stiles pressed another kiss onto her chest, this one at the start of her cleavage. Lydia gasped and yanked Stiles' shirt up and off.  
  
“Awesome, glad we agree. Sex now.”  
  
She fumbled with his jeans, pushing at them ineffectually until he got the hint and helped her. While he was pulling off his shoes and socks, Lydia tugged off her sleep shorts, leaving her in her bra and panties. She moved to unclasp her bra, but Stiles stopped her.  
  
“Can I?” he asked, stepping in close and reaching his hands around to meet hers. “I love undressing you.” Lydia raised her hands away, letting him delicately undo the clasp and pull the straps down her shoulders. “God, Lyds. I don't know how you do it.”  
  
“What?” Lydia asked, struggling to keep focus on his words. His touch had created paths of fire across her back and down her arms, and it was doing everything in her power to douse herself in the stuff. Fight fire with fire, right? She was ready to be engulfed.  
  
“You stun me. Every. Single. Time. It's like discovering God and your first boner all at the same time, but _more_. All your smooth skin,” he dragged the flat of his palm down her stomach, “and your soft curves,” the hand pressed up her side, following the line of her waist. “You're mind-boggling, Lydia.”  
  
“Your mind doesn't seemed too boggled,” Lydia replied breathily. _Unlike mine_ , she refused to say.  
  
Stiles knelt, hooking his thumbs into the sides of her panties and pulling them down slowly. Lydia watched as he breathed in her scent (and that should have been weird, but it _definitely_ wasn't), then she felt a wash of hot air when he exhaled. She shivered, loving the sight of him on his knees, like he was worshipping her the way *he* ought to be worshipped. He grinned up at her and pressed a soft kiss to each hipbone, running a finger along her slit.  
  
“Jesus, Stiles, are you going to fuck me or not?” Lydia growled, needing more of him or less of him or _anything_ that wasn't these playful little touches.  
  
Stiles pressed in past her slit, pushing the finger across her clit and into her entrance. Lydia clenched around it and he made a choked noise. “God, you're so tight,” he garbled. “Just one finger. So beautiful.”  
  
Lydia ran her fingers through his hair lightly, then tugged his head back until he was looking her in the eye. “Imagine how I would feel around your cock.”  
  
Stiles whimpered-- which sent bolts of magma-hot lust crashing through Lydia-- and pressed the butt of his free hand to his crotch. “That's unfair, Lyds.”  
  
“No, it's not,” she snapped, “if you'd just fuck me, already.”  
  
Stiles stood and pulled off his boxers in one fluid motion. Lydia reached out and grabbed his dick, stroking it lightly. She led him back to the bed and lay down slowly, holding onto him until the very last moment. Stiles stared down at her, flushed, until she kicked his shin. “Seriously, Stiles?”  
  
“Right,” he blurted. He dove for his jeans and pulled a condom out of a pocket, struggling to open the packet with his teeth and rolling the condom on hurriedly. “Time for the sex.”  
  
He leaned over her, hips bracketed by her thighs, and lined himself up. Lydia, nearing the end of her patience, rolled her hips up so the first couple inches of Stiles' cock sank into her.  
  
“Fuck,” Stiles said, sounding shocked. “That's a thing.”  
  
“Very much so,” Lydia replied, repeating the motion. He wasn't deep enough, though, so she hooked a leg around his and pulled him in closer. Stiles fell into her, sliding in almost all the way. “Shit, _yes_ , just like that.”  
  
“Lydia,” Stiles murmured, “I want you to keep doing that. Is that okay?”  
  
Lydia nodded, already rolling her hips up again. It felt amazing, taking control like this. It wasn't like the pegging-- though that was amazing, too-- or even like being on top. This felt like she was _giving_ herself to him, like she was offering herself up over, and over, and over. It was heady, to say the least.  
  
Stiles dropped to his elbows, burying his face in her hair. “Feel so perfect around me, Lyds. Hot and wet and gorgeous. Take me so good. Makes me want to fuck you so hard and treat you like a princess, all at the same time.”  
  
Lydia's rhythm faltered. “I would not mind that one bit."  
  
Stiles grinned, the press of teeth hot against the skin of Lydia's neck. "Oh? Which part?"  
  
Lydia pushed herself up and squeezed her inner muscles, drawing a strangled moan out of Stiles. "Both."  
  
Stiles shoved up on his hands. "Love the way you think, Heisenberg." He lifted her hips and shuffled his knees so that they dug into the small of her back. Stiles rocked forward, and _oh_ , that angle was good. The angle was _great_.  
  
He set a deep, slow pace, rubbing against Lydia's g-spot on every thrust.  
  
“Please,” she breathed, “need... harder.” Stiles growled and then he was fucking into her forcefully, hauling her hips in with those big, perfect hands of his until she felt shocky with sensation. Lydia felt her orgasm near the horizon, heavy and distant.  
  
“I want you to rub yourself off for me,” Stiles commanded filthily, jerking into her like the idea alone was enough. Lydia rubbed along her clit, fully on board with this plan, when she remembered the object housed in her nightstand.  
  
She reached out and searched through the drawer blindly until her fingers touched silicone. “I can do you one better,” she told him between breaths, smirking. She pulled out the vibrator, laughing when Stiles sucked in a breath, and pressed it to her clit. The vibrator was large enough that it pressed against the base of his dick, Lydia noted with a pleased grin. She flicked the switch on, and the effect was immediate.  
  
“Fuuuuuck,” Stiles ground out, holding Lydia's hips so tightly that she was sure she would bruise. “'M not gonna last, Lyds.”  
  
“Neither am I,” she moaned, working her hips up onto the vibrator. “Come for me, Stiles.”  
  
He came with a shout, shoving into Lydia so hard her vision went spotty. She felt his cock pulse inside her and it was enough to send her over the edge, keening her release into the air.  
  
When she came down, Stiles pulled out with a low hiss and disposed of the condom. “What even _is_ that thing?” he wondered, flopping down on the bed next to her.  
  
“Like it?” she asked, out-of-breath.  
  
“Jesus, Lyds, 'like' is not a strong enough word.” Stiles rolled onto his side. “I propose that that thing become a permanent part of our love life.”  
  
Lydia's heart twist-leapt at his phrasing, the all-too-familiar taste of burnt sugar pressing hot on the base of her tongue. “Proposal approved.”  
  
Stiles sighed. “Nah, though, not really. I mean, it would stop being special, then, right?”  
  
Lydia grabbed one of his hands, playing with his fingers to avoid looking him in the eye. “Not everything loses its value over time,” she said softly. “Sometimes, the more you get to know something, the more special it becomes.” Stiles went still, and Lydia scratched along the lines in his palm, self-conscious.  
  
“... I'm gonna go shower,” Stiles said eventually, “before I say something stupid.” Lydia nodded shyly, cursing at herself for making things awkward, and let go of his hand, tucking her arms against her chest. Stiles stood and pushed his fists into the small of his back, leaning back on them with a satisfied sigh.  
  
“You're welcome to join me,” he offered, and the edge of his voice was almost imperceptible. To Lydia, it sounded like a steel wall.  
  
“No, that's okay,” she said meekly.  
  
“Hey,” Stiles said, falling to a crouch by the edge of the bed, “none of that. Come on.” He brushed his knuckle along her cheekbone. “I just... Lydia, every day I feel like this is a dream. I mean, I've wanted you for years. It's like the earth going around the sun, or Finstock smelling like Axe and feet; my feelings for you are a constant. Lately, they've felt like the _only_ constant in this city. But Lydia Martin? Actually liking me back, and yeah, in _that_ way? I keep expecting you to push me away. The other shoe's gotta drop, right? I mean, guys like me don't get to be with girls like you.”  
  
“Because _that's_ not sexist,” Lydia drawled, but she did feel better. If anything else, she didn't feel quite so alone in her sappiness.  
  
“Doesn't make it less true. So, hey, shower time? Because I feel gross.”  
  
Lydia grinned. “Yeah, okay, shower time.”  
  
“Awesome,” Stiles replied, standing and wincing when both his knees popped. “Because, while we're being sexist? Rubbing soap on your boobs is, like, the closest to Heaven I think I'll ever get.”  
  
Lydia laughed, fully understanding his sentiment. She was pretty firmly heterosexual, but there was just something about soapy breasts that was fascinating. But if she said that aloud, Stiles might suffer cardiovascular arrest, so she kept her mouth shut.  
  
“Well, since it's the both of us, I vote the master shower,” she said, standing and brushing her hair back from her face. “It has a waterfall shower head.”  
  
“You are ridiculously wealthy,” Stiles stated matter-of-factly. “Bring it on.”  
  
When his hand tangled in hers, Lydia squeezed it, feeling like something major had just happened, even though she had no idea what it was.  
  
And when he dropped to his knees in the shower? Well that was a totally different kind of major.  
  
(Lydia wasn't sure which one she liked more.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will only be a couple of chapters long. It was going to be a one-shot, but I had a midterm (I got a 95%, if anyone's interested) and I kind of lost brain power. Hopefully next week I'll be a better writer. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](jenetica.tumblr.com) if you'd like. I guess. :/
> 
> I need sleep. Sorry. See you all on the flip side!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Sorry for the wait on this; I had an idea for a new Stydia story and I accidentally wrote that all week instead of this. My bad. In other news, I'm writing a new story, so that's fun.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: I'm playing in pretty fast and loose with condoms. I tried to explain it away in the story, but if you're picky about safe sex, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me too much :(
> 
> Un-beta'd! As always.

They awoke late the next morning in a tangle of limbs. Lydia had turned in her sleep, and Stiles was curved tight against her, erection pressing against her ass.  
  
"Good morning to you, too," she said, smiling.  
  
"Sorry," Stiles said, embarrassed. "It's biology."  
  
Lydia turned over and pressed a warm, sleepy kiss to Stiles' lips. "So was morning sex on that list of yours?"  
  
Stiles inhaled, tensing. "If not, then it should be."  
  
Lydia pushed her hand, hot from sleep, under the waistband of his pajamas. She traced along the line of his cock with one finger, scooping into the slit and feeling it ooze precome. "We'll add it in after."  
  
Stiles wriggled out of his pajama pants, somehow languid and eager at the same time, and Lydia pulled off her clothes, kicking her shorts to the foot of the bed under the covers. They reached for each other at the same time, kiss growing heated when their naked bodies made contact. Stiles tugged Lydia in by the waist, groaning when her breasts pushed against his chest. "How do you want me?"  
  
Lydia shuddered. That was probably the most filthy, perfect thing Stiles had ever said to her, ever. "Every way I can have you." And if that came out a little emotionally charged, well, Lydia was only human.  
  
Stiles sucked in a breath. "Roll over." Lydia complied, curious and a little excited. Stiles was a hot line all the way down her back. "Okay, this leg up." He tapped her top leg and Lydia, catching on, brought it up to her chest. Stiles hand fell to her core, fingers tracing over her dampness. "Beautiful," he murmured, an afterthought. He lined himself up and pushed into her, hissing at her heat.  
  
"Mm, you feel good," Lydia mumbled, reaching back to grab his thigh. "Keep going."  
  
Stiles worked into her with small thrusts until he got as deep as he could with this angle. He made to move away, to push in more, but Lydia stopped him with a hand on his waist. "Stay here," she said, grateful that her face was hidden from him. "S'plenty."  
  
Stiles groaned and wrapped his arm around her waist, hand pressed to her sternum so that his wrist was bracketed by the swells of her breasts. He used the hand for leverage, keeping her body in place while he rolled his hips into hers. Lydia gasped, nails digging into his thigh. He felt so big inside her this way, so filling, and it made Lydia arch her spine to angle her hips more. After a few minutes, Stiles thrusts grew erratic and his hand dropped to work at her clit. "Gonna come," he moaned, pressing hot kisses to the curve of her shoulder.  
  
"Do it." Lydia clenched her inner muscles, pushing her hips in counter-rhythm with his. Stiles tweaked her clit and shoved into her, coming in jerky thrusts. Lydia felt him shoot deep inside her and, with mingling horror and lust, realized that they'd forgotten to use a condom.  
  
Stiles seemed to realize it at about the same time, because he froze. "Fuck. I--"  
  
"Birth control," Lydia reminded him, strung out on pleasure and impatient. "Not ideal, but it's okay. Now can we please move on?" She clenched around his softening cock and he whimpered, pulling out from oversensitivity.  
  
"On your back," he commanded, slithering under the sheets. He moaned a second later. "Smells like sex," he said, voice muffled by the comforter. "Like us."  
  
Then his mouth was preoccupied, as were his hands. Lydia felt him scooping out his own release, felt the velvety heat of his tongue sucking at the mess, and came with his name on her lips. Stiles came up sucking on his fingers, and Lydia pulled them out of his mouth to put them in hers, instead. She licked their combined flavors from hollow between the digits, enjoying the look of awe on his face a lot more than the sour-bitter-musk in her mouth. Well, as long as he liked it, Lydia wasn't about to complain.  
  
When they eventually rolled out of bed, Stiles grabbed his toothbrush and clean boxers from his duffel. "Sorry about the morning breath."  
  
Lydia hadn't even noticed. "I'll survive."  
  
They brushed their teeth side-by-side, Stiles in his boxers and Lydia in nothing but her sleep shorts. Lydia contemplated a shower but Stiles changed her mind with a simple "We'll just get dirty again, anyway." Hard to argue with that logic.  
  
They had cereal for breakfast because Lydia didn't have any real breakfast food. Stiles did the dishes while she dried them and she shouldn't have been surprised when he flung foam at her, but she was.  
  
"What the fuck?" she demanded, scooping the foam off the center of her chest. Stiles raised his hands, shrugging, which gave Lydia the perfect opportunity to lob the foam at his chest, instead. He squawked, fingers scrabbling to flick the foam off his skin. Lydia couldn't help but laugh, pointing at his bewildered expression with glee. It was priceless. Stiles moved toward her, intent plain on his face, and Lydia ran the other way, evading his grasp. But Stiles merely ran the other way around the island, cutting Lydia off from the exit, and lifted her up onto the countertop. Lydia, still laughing, batted his hands away ineffectually until he started tickling her, then she couldn't even do that.  
  
"Admit that you suck!" he said over her giggles. He found the sensitive spot beneath her ribs and dug in. Lydia shrieked, curling away from him.  
  
"Never!" she shouted, out of breath. Stiles never stopped, moving from the small of her back to behind her knees to her belly and up to her ribs again. His nimble fingers were little devils, pushing tears of laughter out of Lydia's eyes.  
  
"You suck!" Stiles reminded her, eyes expectant over his massive grin.  
  
"I suck!" Lydia relented finally, stomach aching. Stiles moved back, prompting Lydia to add her amendment. "But only because you sucked, first!"  
  
Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but his lips tilted down, instead. "Fair." He crossed his arms, which made his arms bulge a little. Damn, he really was fit.  
  
Lydia locked her ankles together from her perch on the island. "In fact," she said, coy, "the way I remember it, you actually _did_ suck first, didn't you?"  
  
Stiles smirked, catching on. "You know, I think I did." He stepped forward and Lydia uncrossed her ankles so he could step between her knees. Stiles leaned into her, putting his hands on the counter next to her hips. "Also, your pickup lines could use some work."  
  
Lydia scoffed, mock-outraged. "What?"  
  
"You're lucky I like you so much," Stiles continued, "because damn. I've heard better at Jungle. And those…." He shook his head.  
  
"Shut up and sex me already," Lydia snapped playfully.  
  
"See? Much better," Stiles complimented, smiling easily. Lydia grabbed his ears and locked his lips to hers, arching into him when his hands, cold from the counter, landed on her back.  
  
They were a blur of hands and mouths, shucking clothing and tugging on skin until Stiles pushed himself into her in one thrust. Lydia moaned, low and throaty, and fell back to her elbows to better the angle.  
  
"Jesus fuck, Lydia, look at you," Stiles groaned, grinding into her hard. "Like a fantasy brought to life. Minus the simile."  
  
Lydia stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, thinking the same thing. "You've fantasized about this, huh? What happens?"  
  
Stiles shuddered, bowing his head. "You're stretched out in front of me, just like this," he said, voice hoarse. His thrusts grew long, methodical, like he had to control himself. "I bend down to kiss you and you lock your legs around me and I thrust so deep inside of you that you keep shoving up the island, so I have to hold on to you and you, fuck, you love it so goddamn much, Lyds."  
  
Lydia swiveled her hips as much as she was able. "So what are you waiting for, then?" She locked her ankles behind his back, a clear invitation.  
  
Stiles immediately dropped to his elbows, licking into her mouth. Lydia responded to the kiss eagerly and shifted her weight to one elbow so she could cup the back of head with the other. When she ran her fingers through his hair, Stiles' hips jerked hard into her, which caused Lydia to bite down on his lip. She tongued over the spot in apology.  
  
"No," Stiles breathed, "I liked it."  
  
Oh. Well then. Lydia bit his lip again, this time sucking it hard from between her teeth. Stiles growled and ripped away, sucking hot marks down her neck. "Fuck you, Lydia, driving me insane," he bit out between kisses. "Not fair."  
  
Lydia disagreed-- she was feeling pretty unstable, too, right about now-- but she wasn't sure she had the words to say so. Where Stiles got talkative when he was out of control, Lydia lost the capacity for speech. It was much easier to let Stiles babble at her, anyway. Especially when he said such beautiful, nasty things.  
  
Stiles pressed a kiss to the flat of her sternum and immediately pulled away, scratching at his tongue with his top teeth. "Soap," he explained, smacking his mouth unhappily. Lydia laughed even though he had stilled inside her, causing all sorts of unpleasant frustrations.  
  
"It's your own fault," she reminded him. Stiles stuck his tongue out at her, so she pressed up and sucked it into her mouth, unwilling to let the opportunity slide. Stiles' scowl turned into something hot and heady, and everything was sexy again. When Stiles thrust into her, Lydia fell flat onto the island, letting the sensations of getting well and truly fucked course over her body. Stiles tucked his arms under her back and fitted his hands over her shoulders, driving into her with single-minded purpose. Lydia felt the swells of orgasm drawing higher and higher, each wave barely cresting before the next was upon her. Stiles grunted in her ear, the sound desperate and warning.  
  
It triggered something deep inside Lydia, something metaphysically satisfying. Stiles was on edge, beyond control and all reason, because of her. This amazing, smart, quirky boy, the one who had stood by his best friend's side even when it meant mortal peril, was clutching harshly at her shoulders because she'd brought him so much pleasure that he couldn't contain himself. Lydia was giving him that. She had never given anyone anything, more comfortable with taking, but she was giving now, and it was the most powerful thing she had ever done.  
  
Lydia cried out his name as she came, walls contracting just as Stiles pulsed hot in her. Stiles rested his head on her chest, panting. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah," Lydia said. That was probably *all* she could say. Stiles pulled out of her with a obscenely wet noise. He used tissues from the box beside the fridge to clean himself up.  
  
"I, uh," he stammered, crumpling the tissue in his hand. "How do you, uh…?"  
  
Lydia understood what he was asking, but she hated how awkward he had become. "You can say the words," she said, sitting up. "Stop being weird."  
  
"Do you want me to clean you up?" Stiles asked abruptly, facing confrontation like he always did, head-first and with no reserve. Lydia bit her lip against the thick tang of burnt sugar and chocolate, used to it by now. "If so, how?"  
  
"I got it," Lydia said, beaming at him in approval. "Why don't you find a movie or something for us to watch?"  
  
Stiles grinned, relieved. "Okay."  
  
When Lydia joined him in her bedroom a few minutes later, he already had her laptop propped on the foot of the bed, movie paused.  
  
" _Mean Girls_? Really?" Lydia asked, confused.  
  
"What?" Stiles shrugged. "It's a Generation Y classic. Plus, I have no idea what you like, but everyone likes _Mean Girls_. Now get in, loser, we're going watching." He lifted the bedcovers and Lydia crawled in, shoving her cold feet against the warmth of his calves.  
  
It turned out that, between them, Stiles and Lydia could quote the entire movie, and did so with delight. Stiles even shimmied his way through the dance routine, blowing a seductive kiss in Lydia's direction when he was done. They missed the next ten minutes of the movie.  
  
After the movie had finished, Stiles rolled on his side and propped his head on his elbow. "Whaddya wanna do now?"  
  
Lydia thought about it. As insatiable as teenagers were supposed to be, the idea of sex seemed cheap right now. "How about a grocery run? We can't get pizza delivery two days in a row."  
  
Stiles chuckled. "We definitely _can_ \-- Scott's and my record is four days in a row, when we had the most epic of Halo marathons last summer-- but sure. I want nachos."  
  
"Why am I not surprised by any single one of those statements?" Lydia asked wryly, lips quirked up.  
  
"Because you know me," Stiles replied simply, like it was the most obvious truth in existence. Maybe it was. Lydia leaned forward and kissed him, willing him to read into her layers. Stiles was easy, in a complicated way, comedy hiding sadness and lack of confidence. Lydia was a bit more tricky to peel apart.  
  
Stiles drove them to the closest grocery store and they loaded up on cheap snacks and fixings for dinner. Stiles insisted on Kraft macaroni and cheese with hot dogs, and Lydia bought Klondike bars for dessert. Like she'd said, go hard or go home. (They went home, too, but that's besides the point. It's an idiom, okay?)  
  
They whiled away the afternoon watching funny YouTube videos and eating sour gummy worms and veggie chips. It was lazy and slobbish and wonderful. Lydia wound up hiding her face in Stiles' chest most of the time, giggling, while he poked at her to keep watching, even though he held her to his chest with his other arm.  
  
Dinner was an exercise in patience for Lydia. She's always assumed Stiles did a majority of the cooking at home, but that didn't prepare her for the sight of Stiles in a kitchen. As soon as he figured out his way around the cabinets and drawers, he was off, frying the hot dogs in a pan and boiling the macaroni in an adjacent saucepan, as well as steaming vegetables in the microwave and baking biscuits (fucking homemade, from _scratch_ ) in the oven. He moved from one task to the next with a grace unbefitting his lanky limbs. Lydia had never wanted to fuck him more.  
  
She didn't even feel useless, watching him dance his way around her kitchen. Uselessness belied discontent, and Lydia was completely fine with admiring the way Stiles' spine curved when he bent to poke at the biscuits. He chattered all the while, some of it directed at Lydia and some directed at himself. Lydia got out the butter when she was asked to, and set the table when she was asked to, and didn't even realize she'd moved until she was eating.  
  
Mac and cheese with hotdogs was supposed to be good in a disgusting way, Lydia knew, but this wasn't even marginally gross. The sear of the hot dogs worked seamlessly with the creaminess of the pasta. It was almost ridiculous. "You're like a weird treasure trove of fantastic qualities hidden under a geeky exterior," Lydia informed Stiles. "I don't get it, and I dislike not understanding things."  
  
"I'm an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Heisenberg," Stiles responded, licking cheese sauce from the side of his hand. "Us enigmas don't surrender our secrets easily."  
  
Lydia was willing to wait it out, but she didn't dare say that out loud. Judging by the self-conscious way Stiles grinned into his meal, he got the message anyway. "So this list," Lydia said, changing the subject to something that didn't make her feel like her gummy words had come to life in her stomach, "how many things have we crossed off it, so far?"  
  
"No idea," Stiles said. "Haven't really been keeping track. We can look after dinner?"  
  
Lydia nodded, spearing sugar snap peas onto her fork. "So how's Scott? Are him and Allison on again or off again?" She'd stopped trying to follow that tragedy of a romance a few whiles ago, but Stiles was a lot closer to Scott than she was to Allison.  
  
Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask me. Scott talks about her all the time either way, so I just tune him out. But Allison's got this weird thing with Isaac going, even though I totally thought Isaac was into Scott, and it's just a mess."  
  
"So, basically, polyamory is the answer," Lydia summarized. Stiles barked out a laugh, shoving an entire biscuit in his mouth at once.  
  
"Yeah, but can you imagine that, like, for real? It'd just be one massive relationship involving puppy dog eyes. All three of them."  
  
"They'd be a tour de force," Lydia said. "They could just guilt trip any threat into giving up. Our territory is saved."  
  
Stiles shook his head slowly, eyes wide. "I still can't believe Scott's an alpha. I mean, have you met Scott? Until six months ago, he couldn't even build a decent army in Age of Empires. I love him, I do, and I think he'll do whatever he has to to keep us safe, but… I worry about him. A lot."  
  
"I know you do," Lydia said, poking at her meal. "And you should. Scott's lucky to have a support system like you. I mean, you guys personify the phrase 'dynamic duo.' Scott's going to need that, and he's going to need you. Have you ever thought about getting the Bite?"  
  
Stiles frowned. "I don't want to be a werewolf. I know I'm more vulnerable as a human, and I'm probably more of a liability than anything else, but… I'm not sure I'm even qualified to make that kind of life decision right now. All I know is, I want a normal life, as stupid as that sounds. Things will settle down with the pack, once we get ourselves established, and I… I want to be able to have a family. I don't want to suffer during the full moon. I don't want to monitor my heartbeat when I get upset just in case I end up killing someone. It's a massive responsibility. What about you?"  
  
"Well, I'm immune, so what I want is irrelevant. And apparently I'm a banshee, whatever that means--"  
  
"It means I can't make you scream in bed, or the whole neighborhood will know what we're doing," Stiles joked, dodging Lydia's thrown biscuit.  
  
"Shut up, you know what I mean. I'm some sort of supernatural creature, whether I like it or not. And it's awful. I find dead bodies, that's my contribution to the pack. I'm a compass for scary, horrible shit." Lydia felt the prickle of tears and let them fall. She'd never vocalized how hopeless she felt all the time, and it was a relief to get it out there. "And I think I'll always be this way. So, would I rather get the perks of being a werewolf? Maybe, yeah. It'd be nice to know when people are lying to me, given my friends' track records. It'd be nice to feel less powerless."  
  
Stiles shoved his chair back and dropped to his knees next to her. "Hey, no," he murmured, brushing away the wetness on her cheeks with delicate strokes. "You're, God, Lydia, you're the opposite of powerless. You're one of the most powerful people I've ever met. My attraction to you is reminiscent of moths and lamps, if you haven't noticed. You're the most promising person in this city. You're going to change the world, remember?"  
  
Lydia laughed wetly. "That was a long time ago, Stiles." But it wasn't so long ago, which is why it hurt so much. "I don't think I'm that person anymore."  
  
"Everyone's changed," Stiles acknowledged. "But I can't imagine you _not_ making the world a better place. Maybe I'm biased. I look at you, and you remind me why I need to stay human. You remind me that humanity doesn't equate to weakness. You've been dealt the shittiest hand out of all of us dumb kids, and you're the strongest. Allison's got her arrows and Scott's got his claws and I've got, well, _something_ , and it pales in comparison to what you're packing."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"Heart. Lydia, you've got the biggest heart I've ever seen."  
  
Lydia laughed coldly. "Well, that's the first time anyone's ever said that to me."  
  
"That's because no one else knows you," Stiles said, undeterred. "Do you know how much it killed me to see Jackson turn into the kanima? I always hated him, because I'm petty like that, but watching him turn into a snake? Turn on you? It was devastating. You really loved him, and that was okay, because I knew you and me were totally impossible, but I couldn't stand the way he hurt you. But you kept loving him. You probably still do, and that's still okay. You love him, and you love Allison, and you love the pack, even though you hate us, too, and you stick around simply because you can."  
  
"You just described yourself," Lydia stated, but she felt better. "You're the heart. I'm the brains."  
  
Stiles blinked at her. "You see me that way?" he asked, awed.  
  
"Duh," Lydia said, sniffling. "You love Scott, even though he's kind of been the worst best friend ever-- and don't defend him, you know it's true-- and you've stuck around because of it. Seriously, that stunt you pulled at that motel? I don't have that kind of devotion to anything."  
  
"Has anyone ever given you a reason to?" Stiles asked. Lydia was struck dumb, so he continued. "I've been friends with Scott since we were planning on being astronauts for a living. You don't have anyone like that, really, do you? Everyone around you either wants your popularity or your intelligence. That's not much to devote yourself to."  
  
"You don't," Lydia said. "You don't want me for those things."  
  
"Enigma, remember? Even _I_ don't understand me." Stiles smiled gently to show that he was joking, and Lydia lifted the corners of her lips in response. "The point is, I've got nothing else to do. I've got Scott and my stellar sense of humor, and that's it. Easy to tie yourself to a post when it's the only one for miles. But you, Lydia, you're at a crossroads full of posts. You're like, Postmistress General."  
  
Lydia laughed, and Stiles beamed like he'd won something. "I get it, Stiles," Lydia said, running a hand through his hair. "But out of all the posts available to me, to use your metaphor, this is the only one with you in it. And right now? I'd rather be with you than without you. Even if you _are_ an enigma."  
  
"Then I'll be there for you, too," Stiles promised. Lydia could see his pulse in his neck, and it was racing. "As long as you need me, I'm there."  
  
Lydia swallowed around the ball in her throat. "Me, too. We'll be there for each other, okay? Us puny humans are gonna band together and take down the world."  
  
"Okay," Stiles agreed, voice thick. "I think I like the sound of that."  
  
The air was oppressively heavy, swirling with emotions Lydia wasn't ready to acknowledge, even if she had just confessed them, more or less. "You know what else sounds good? Klondike bars."  
  
Stiles' eyes flickered, and he grinned. "Truer words were never spoken."  
  
They cleaned up their dishes, talking to fill the silence, and took the box of Klondike bars up to Lydia's room. They ate them all, Stiles eating four and Lydia eating two, and curled up on the bed when the sugar overload led to stomach cramps.  
  
"That was the stupidest idea I've ever had," Lydia groaned.  
  
"You dated Aiden," Stiles reminded her, wincing when his stomach grumbled loudly.  
  
Lydia glanced at him. "This is the second stupidest idea I've ever had," she groaned again, this time emphatically. Stiles laughed, mumbling expressions of pain between breaths.  
  
Slowly, gradually, they fell asleep like that, tangled in blankets and emotions and promises and Klondike wrappers. And when Lydia woke up in the middle of the night with chocolate smeared across her arm? She just licked it off and went back to sleep. As far as she was concerned, this post, the one with Stiles and chocolate and loserly movies? It was the only one in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks! For this installment, at least! See you next time :)
> 
> EDIT: So I write in markdown formatting, which means instead of italics, I use asterisks. I try to clean up shop as much as possible, but I tend to miss a few. If you spot a stray asterisk out there, please comment and let me know! Thank you!


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